


Why Kill Him Here When I Can Humiliate Him Instead

by Wanderlust_Novadust



Category: Samurai Jack (Cartoon)
Genre: Bondage, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, The main intention was porn, forest hook-up, handjob, mlm ship, rope, this is a bit contrived but to be fair I wrote this at five in the morning, tied up, what I wrote instead of sleeping at a regular hour, when you ship something to project onto one character because self inserts were ruined for you, who I'm projecting onto I will let you all be the judge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderlust_Novadust/pseuds/Wanderlust_Novadust
Summary: What are you supposed to do when you find a starving samurai in a cave? Scaramouche had a few ideas.





	Why Kill Him Here When I Can Humiliate Him Instead

Isolated. Jack was entirely isolated at the moment, and eating was a struggle. It didn’t always come easy, but as time roared and raged forward, he’d found it getting harder and harder. When pocket money wouldn’t buy something warm (or cold) and edible, he found himself turning to things like hunting and fishing. The success rates varied, but it was a way to fill his aching stomach.

This wasn’t going well, and it was beginning to become painfully apparent. Between Jack’s ever showing rib cage, and the growl that broke the silence of the wilderness every now and again, He was acutely aware he couldn’t keep this up much longer without at least one decent meal. He loosened himself out of the tight, curled up position he was in under one of many trees, getting up and trying to start his way out deeper into the woods with the spear he’d made earlier that morning.

The first thing he encountered was a rabbit, but that was gone in a flash, and too quickly for his waning body to catch. There were birds, but they posed the exact same challenge. Jack took a deep breathe, and from there encountered the most dangerous thing yet, a deer. It was simply… A deer. At first, he forgot himself, deciding that perhaps rushing a buck with antlers so broad and sharp was a wonderful idea. It was one botch attempt before Jack found himself hiding up in a tree to avoid being skewered on the antlers unceremoniously.

As day turned to night, and the hunting dragged on to reveal he was just not strong enough for this at the moment, he turned to fishing. How smart it may or may not have been to be fishing at night, Jack didn’t give two flying fucks. What he did care about was that he get something he can cook. Nothing was biting, however, no matter what bait he used.

“Am I cursed?” Jack muttered this to nobody in particular, but a response would’ve been humorous (or, unfortunately, very informative. A response, however, was something Jack didn’t expect, and he didn’t receive one either.)

After some silence, Jack simply sighed as packed himself up. Shelter. He might as well find or build shelter and then try to find his way to civilization in the morning… Maybe someone could offer him a meal, if he could find anyone to begin with. He’d been lost for quite some time. Was there even a way out? Had Jack somehow wandered into a cursed forest he couldn’t escape? No… There was always a way. He just needed sleep, and he’d get out of here.

* * *

Scaramouche the Merciless was not often sent on petty jobs, as he called them. Petty jobs to him were things like tracking down low level lackey types, or finding the TV remote; they were simply above him. As a trained (built) assassin, Scaramouche found it rather pointless to be sent a few villages over just to destroy the place. Honestly, Aku could just do that himself! His interesting find on his forest excursion was what he’d barely spotted at first. It was so surprising, Scaramouche had to stop when he thought he caught a glimpse, really focus his faux squint at the cave entrance.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, perhaps too loudly, but entirely to himself.

He did not often take heed to walk silently, but Scaramouche was far too interested to scare off this find. As he got closer, he was stunned, but in an entirely different way. He scanned over who was apparently Samurai Jack himself, only to find that he was starved. A bit dehydrated as well, but Scaramouche chocked that up to being asleep for what was probably too long if it was sunrise and Jack wasn’t moving around yet.

“Then again, maybe he’s dead,” Scaramouche muttered under his ‘breath.’

His very first thought was to poke Jack with a stick. He wasn’t that impulsive, he decided… So he went with his exact, second thought: poke him with a very, very big stick. It wasn’t much searching before he found what was essentially a “stick” just short enough to not be called a branch. This was perfect. Scaramouche waltzed back over to the cave entrance, giving Jack a substantial few pokes in the ribs. After he haphazardly tried to shoo the contact and shifted around a bit on the cave ground, Scaramouche had decided he had firm proof that Samurai Jack was, in fact, alive.

“The Samurai Jack, out in a cave, starving… Who would’ve thought it?”

He could easily kill him now. The thought crossed his mind as he looked him over. Overgrown hair and beard, intimately exposed shape and contour to his rib cage, sunken in eyes and stomach… Scaramouche even argued a bit to himself that it may even be a kindness. It was as he reached for the knife that a thought struck him.

How boring would it be to just off him here? Defenseless?

“Oh, that simply wouldn’t do,” Scaramouche answered himself, quiet and with a forming smirk.

This thought didn’t just freeze his hand, Scaramouche abandoned the knife idea entirely—leaving every weapon he could’ve drawn sheathed as he opted for a plan he decided would be far more entertaining.

* * *

Jack noticed a few things as he woke up. Firstly, he noticed the fact that he’d far overslept! His temporary cave home wasn’t exactly being flooded with sunlight, but he was close enough to the entrance that he could see the afternoon sunlight streaming down through the leaves… That is when he smelled it. Was that cooking? Jack was about to get up when he tugged and found that he was tied up.

At least I’m not the food, was the only humorous thought Jack could summon up.

“Oh, Babe, you’re up!”

That sent ice into Jack’s veins, and it only took a glance deeper into the cave to see that not very far at all was the source of the delicious smell of cooking meat. A fire, a pot, how long had he been here? Why had he set this all up? Jack was at least half certain that robots didn’t eat, no matter how human they looked or acted.

“I had a thought, Jacky, baby—“

“Don’t call me that,” Jack said, but it fell on deaf ears.

“—So, I’m just passing through these woods, and you know what I see? None other than you, Jacky, so I get to thinking! What am I to do with a sleeping, helpless samurai at my boot?”

Was the food poisoned? Jack assumed the food was poisoned.

“Well, it’s be boring to just off you there, right? So I’ve made you a little gift. A care package, maybe? I don’t know where you’d store all this, babe, but you could keep some for the road even!”

A gift? “Gift” can mean “poison” in German. Scaramouche seemed to notice Jack’s hesitance to say or do anything, and his face seemed to soften a bit. At first, Jack thought maybe he was offended, but his voice rang with a tinge of anxiety.

“What, you don’t think I can cook? I can eat you know, I can taste too! I know what tastes good,” Scaramouche proclaimed a little too defensively.

There was a little more silence, Jack tugging at the ropes that bound him a few more times before looking back “up” at Scaramouche.

“Oh, is it the rope that’s got you… Tongue tied?” Scaramouche giggled a bit to himself before setting aside some of the flammables and moseying on over. “You know, I only tied you up so you wouldn’t immediately knock everything over if you woke up while I was cooking.”

Jack felt goosebumps coat his skin as Scaramouche grabbed him, having never been curious how cold robot hands were, and finding himself wondering if even ice were that cold? To his surprise, Scaramouche just sat him upright, rather than choking him out and explaining how this was all an elaborate ruse. Jack spent the next few minutes watching Scaramouche be uncharacteristically quiet as he finished cooking.

“Bada-boom bada-bing, baby!”

Jack realized he’d been dissociating when Scaramouche was already at his side with a plate of the essentials for a breakfast fashioned in the forest. Meat from a large animal (part of Jack hoped it was the deer that tried to kill him,) eggs, and what he was hoping were not poisonous berries. At first, Scaramouche just set it by him and then returned to the fire to make sure he actually remembered to put it out. No point going through the trouble of making all this food if he just gets the samurai killed in an accidental forest fire… Even if they were in a cave! Crazy shit happens.

“You enjoy yourself, babe.”

It was only when he got the fire put out that Scaramouche realized… Wait a minute. Jack seemed to be ready to ask a question, and it was the quiet, mildly confused hum that got him to look back over at Jack. Oh, right. He was tied up.

“Look, Jacky, baby… Can I trust you to not attack me the moment I untie you?”

“If you feel the need to keep using that annoying nickname, no.”

“Hey, you’re honest at least!”

Jack expected him to leave, which meant just getting out of the bonds on his own. He’d survived worse, he figured. What he did not expect was for Scaramouche to walk over and not leave the cave. He almost wanted to remind him which way the exist was, but before he knew it, Scaramouche was squatted in front of him and getting some of the cut meat on a fork.

“What are you doing,” Jack asked with obvious bewilderment.

“Well, you have to eat somehow!”

Scaramouche held up the steak to Jack’s mouth, which in turn got him to reel back a little. Jack stared at the (extremely temping) morsel before making eye contact with Scaramouche. That smug grin told Jack that he was having fun, if he knew what he was doing or not.

“This is demeaning,” Jack said.

“You haven’t told me to go away yet,” Scaramouche teased.

Jack knew defeat when it stared him in the face. He took the bite, noticing the little glimmer of triumph on Scaramouche’s face. It shone through in his voice too.

“See, babe? Was that so hard? Now, we have to do this slowly—or I think we do? Can’t have you over taxing your organ things!”

“Organ things” was not a term Jack had heard yet, but the strangeness of it was enough to crack a grin on his face. That faded however as Scaramouche got the next bite right up to Jack’s face. This continued on, Scaramouche occasionally starting to sputter out dumb rambles about how he got the food.

“You know, I found this wicked angry deer, babe. Giant antlers, sharp too. Tried to really stab the hell out of me! You should be thankful you didn’t have to encounter it.”

Oh, if only he knew.

“Oh, babe, these eggs? Huge! I mean, you can see that, but can you imagine what laid them? Absolutely terrifying. Real glad I didn’t run into whatever that was, baby. Giant beaks or claws aren’t good for the circuits.”

At that story, Jack had begun to actually enjoy his rambling. It might’ve just been the fact that it meant eating something, and he was quite hungry, but it was at least a little charming. This was a heaping helpful of a distraction from the rather embarrassing situation of being fed by a literal enemy in the woods. There were other embarrassing components of the situation, but the way he was tied and Scaramouche’s ramblings made this at least something he could hide, if not ignorable.

Until Scaramouche took notice.

“You know, Jacky, baby,” he began. “I can’t help but notice you’ve been all red in the face.”

“Have I,” Jack asked on impulse, genuinely convinced he hadn’t been blushing.

“Well, with how close I have to crouch to you for this, it’s not exactly easy to miss, babe.”

“Probably just from the food,” was the fib that came out too quickly to sound honest.

“No, no, babe—that’s been there for a while, I think? I didn’t get a good look, but I’m a little sure it’s been there the whole time. Maybe, hmmm… seventy percent sure,” Scaramouche said, playing into how entertained he was by the fact that Samurai fucking Jack was embarrassed.

“I am sure it is nothing,” Jack said, each word hitting the ends of the next at a mile a minute.

Scaramouche hummed a bit before continuing, “You say that, but what if I just…”

It was zero effort for Scaramouche to put down the plate and fork and just move Jack round a bit. From curled up to his knees was a piece of cake for unyielding metal, even if he did squirm a bit. There was no hiding the apparent erection anymore. Scaramouche didn’t know if he should be flattered or confused, but in any case, he landed on amused (and just a little flattered.)

“What’s this? Samurai Jack has gotten all worked up over an enemy taking care of him,” Scaramouche declared as loudly as he could’ve, emphasizing the living hell out of the word ‘enemy.’

“No! No, I am not!”

“What a forbidden love story, babe! I’m sorry to say I’m not the most interested in romance, but I can certainly help with your little, uh… Issue. Unless you want me to scat-dat right out of here!”

“No, no—don’t do that,” Jack said before he thought. Oh god, what was he doing?

Scaramouche stood up, “No, babe. You seem conflicted, and this was purely a mission to make sure your alive for me to fight you properly later! See ya later, Jacky—“

“Get back here!”

Well… That was a bit much. Scaramouche slowly squatted back down, looking at Jack now with obvious concern. Had Jack hit his head? Was he still delirious from hunger? Scaramouche didn’t know where this was going.

“We don’t speak of this,” was the only answer Jack gave.

“Oh? Really, babe? I was kidding, but you know what? That little display was pretty desperate,” he said with a snort.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Jack lazily growled.

“You’re tied up, babe. You can’t exactly do a whole lot.”

Jack hated when he was right. Scaramouche found himself momentarily considering if he should or shouldn’t tear off the lower half of his clothes. What was this, a robe at some point? He was wearing it more like a kilt or skirt now… Maybe he should just ask.

“How am I gonna get these off you, babe?”

“You could untie me and I could dress myself,” Jack answered flatly.

“Look, I’ll loosen the ropes on the way out, but if I’m staying to get you off then you’re staying tied up, babe. I don’t feel like getting kicked in the gut or something all because you thought it’d be a swell idea to get me to give you a handjob as a distraction.”

“Fair enough,” Jack said with a sigh.

“So, the skirt, babe.”

Jack lazily shrugged, and Scaramouche just took that as permission to rip it off. It was one clean rip, too, which Jack wasn’t used to. He figured he’d just sew it back together, like he’d been dong for a while, but not having to deal with the small cuts and holes caused by a barrage of weapons was a little new. One clean cut? Sign him the fuck up.

“Well, well, well!”

Jack was ripped from his quick succession train of thought by Scaramouche. He watched him actually sit cross legged instead of just keeping that crouch up, before walking his fingers up Jack’s thigh.

“Please don’t tease at a time like this.”

“What? Why not,” Scaramouche whined.

“I think you’ve humiliated me enough,” Jack grumbled.

“Fine, fine…”

Scaramouche got to it, starting slow at first. Jack felt like his blood was literal ice this time, shivering at the though of Scaramouche’s palm to his needy cock. He noticed though, through the first few slow pumps, that Scaramouche’s hand was getting significantly warmer? He met eyes with the half bored robot for a moment, who had his head propped up in his free hand, elbow planted onto his leg.

“What? Think I don’t have heaters, babe? I’m all tricked out for things like this,” he said, a little too proudly.

Jack looked away, feeling his face heat up further. He ended up focusing a little too hard on Scaramouche’s hand, and the comparison of it’s normal chill to the pleasant warmth it had now. It was a comforting temperature—and he half wondered if that was on purpose. Did Scaramouche care, or was he just keeping his hand at a nice level of heat to avoid having to do this longer if it interfered with Jack’s ability to get off? The world may never know.

“Could you speed up, just a bit…?”

“You got it, babe.”

Jack only really expected him to speed up slightly, like a genie who got the wish for “A bit of ice cream” and gave a man a half full pint. This was not the case. Scaramouche sped up significantly, and to his amusement, got far more of a reaction out of Jack. The gasp, the tomato red face, the was he was obviously fighting the urge to squirm and failing in little ways… This was the sort of thing Scaramouche liked seeing, and he was far more engaged now.

“You like that, huh, Jacky?”

“Y-you could say this, yes,” Jack groaned out, only realizing now how long it’d been since he’d done anything remotely like this.

“Well, I know I’m loving this cute little display… Oh, if only I could tell Aku about this! He’d die laughing if I wouldn’t die first, babe.”

Jack was too caught up at that point, nodded and losing the battle of now squirming or twitching more and more. It wasn’t long before Scaramouche had one hand holding Jack’s hips still as he got to a quicker pace. Precum had coated most of his hand at this point, and he couldn’t help but find how desperate it seemed the picture of adorable.

“Fuck… I—“

Jack couldn’t finish the phrase, biting his own lip for a moment before Scaramouche did the unthinkable. He tightened his grip around the base of Jack’s cock, all too proud of himself. Jack picked up on this quick.

“I was close!”

“I know, babe… Bit your lip, huh? Trying to hold back on me?”

Jack looked absolutely pissed, but there was an underlying lack of punch to it. He wasn’t seriously upset, just… A little miffed. Scaramouche had never felt so powerful.

“What do you want, for me to beg?”

“Nope! I just want you to not hold out on me.”

Jack looked a little shocked, but that only lasted a fraction of a second.

“Fine, fine! I won’t, just please get back to jerking me off?”

Scaramouche was satisfied. He loosened his grip, getting right back to it and letting Jack ride out the high… He certainly got what he wanted, half convinced the whole forest could hear Jack. He’d comment on how it was just a handjob, but he was just going to guess this wasn’t something Jack did often. Once all was said and done, he wiped off his hand lazily on his clothes and got up.

“Hey, I thought you were going to loosen the ropes!”

“Oh, right, right…”

Scaramouche crouched back down, having Jack lean forward a bit so he had easy access… Once they were loosened a bit, Scaramouche back tracked a few paces.

“If you ever want to do something a bit more, Jacky, maybe I’ll indulge you instead of slitting your throat. Catch you later, babe!”

Jack watched him leave before wriggling out of the ropes. This… Was a mess. Wait a minute, where had the bottom half of his robe gone? Had Scaramouche taken it? Oh, of all things… Time to find a suitable pelt for the meantime.


End file.
